


Always At Your Side

by S_L_Hunter



Series: Always At Your Side [1]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2012-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 00:19:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_L_Hunter/pseuds/S_L_Hunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris's point of view as he falls for the sassy and charming rogue Keaira Hawke. Will be a long tale, mostly following game plot, with some distinctly non-canon twists coming in later chapters. Graphic violence. Graphic sexuality in future chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Light in the Shadows

Fenris had been relieved when Anso had come to him, to tell him a group of four mercenaries had taken his ‘job’. Unknowing, they would provide the distraction- but there had been more hunters than he had anticipated. He set out immediately, determined to get there in time. His hirelings would likely be dead. If he took too long, the hunters would simply retrieve their bait and set the trap anew.  
Cutting down their backup had been simple enough. The lieutenant was the last to die. He staggered around the bend into the alienage, trailing blood as he collapsed.  
Fenris cautiously turned the corner, and stopped in complete surprise upon seeing all of the forty five hunters lying on the cold stone, blood soaking through their Tevinter uniforms. The hunter captain was on the stairs ahead of him, facing three combatants. A tall orange-haired human woman in a guard’s uniform stood at the ready, brandishing a new-looking mace still shining with polish where it wasn’t caked with blood, which contrasted sharply with what looked to be a scratched and chipped templar shield. Behind her stood a dwarf in expensive-looking clothes wielding a huge crossbow. At his side was a shorter woman in pale blue robes that matched her eyes, shoulder-length straight black hair who held what looked to be a stick. All three were covered in various splashes of blood and gore.  
Seeing the three shift their gaze, the captain turned to his left, putting his back inches from the wall and looked right at him. Fenris lowered his greatsword and spoke, “You men are dead, and your trap has failed. I suggest you run back to your master while you can.”  
The hunter captain grinned maliciously, “You’re going nowhere, slave!”  
The shadows on the wall opposite the remaining hunter seemed to move, as a feminine voice asked, “So you are slavers?” A slight figure that had been cleverly concealed in the dark stepped toward the hunter captain. Her face was hidden by her hood, body concealed by a long cloak. Only her voice distinguished her as a woman, her accent Fereldan. She moved to stand a mere foot away from the man who had hunted him. Fenris raised his blade, unsure what was happening now.  
The Tevinter man looked at her speculatively, “Yes. I do not carry the coin, but if you help me recapture the slave you will be paid far more than he can offer you.” Fenris felt anger and despair, he shifted his footing and prepared to charge down the stairs. He would not go without fighting for his freedom.  
Voice charged with anger, she declared “I would never sell another’s freedom!” He barely saw her move, but very clearly saw the hunt captain’s head sail off, and hit the tree in the centre of the alienage, splattering across its roots. The headless corpse crumpled down the stairs spurting blood. She calmly cleaned blood off what looked to be a sai and sheathed it, barely disturbing her cloak. He was still with shock at this turn of events as the other three put their weapons away and approached the steps. “Well said, Hawke.” said the red-haired guardswoman approvingly.  
The other three seemed to defer to the woman on the stairs, who had turned to face him. Fenris realized with some embarrassment he was still baring his weapon at his benefactors. He sheathed it and addressed the group,  
“I thank you, I have met none in my travels who have sought anything more than personal gain.”  
The cloaked woman chuckled with good humour. “Well, that I can fix!”  
She pushed back her hood, and Fenris found himself staring. She was unquestionably one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, creamy skin with sky blue eyes and jet black curls disappearing under the collar of her cape. She pulled a dark leather glove off her hand and held it out to him. He shook it, still staring as she introduced herself,  
“I’m Hawke. Keaira Hawke. This is Guardswoman Aveline Vallen, dwarven scoundrel Varric Tethras, and my sister Bethany Hawke.” He tore his eyes away from her to look speculatively at the younger girl. A strong resemblance, even ignoring the unusual combination of blue eyes and black hair, but the younger was cute, pretty even, but the woman who had just saved him was stunning.  
He drove these distracting thoughts from his mind and answered, “My name is Fenris. I apologize. When I asked Anso to provide a distraction, I had no idea they’d be so...numerous.”  
Her sapphire eyes glanced at each of her companions before returning to him. “It appears we’re unscathed.”  
He looked at the corpses strewn about the square, “Impressive. These men were Imperial bounty hunters seeking to reclaim a magister’s lost property, namely myself. They were trying to lure me into the open. Crude as their methods were, I could not face them alone.” He glanced meaningfully at the headless corpse at the bottom of the stairs before meeting her eyes again, “Thankfully, Anso chose wisely.”  
Her lips formed a half-smile, “If they were trying to recapture you, than I am happy I helped.”  
“It would seem the deception was unnecessary. If so, I am sorry. I have become too accustomed to hiding.” He paused, his thoughts returning to what he had originally come here for. “If I may ask, what was in the chest? The one they kept in the house.”  
Her eyes narrowed in confusion, “It was empty.”  
He sighed with disappointment, “I suppose it was too much to hope for. Even so, I had to know.”  
She raised one eyebrow and joked, “All this for an empty chest?”  
Fenris shook his head, “No, there’s more.” He strode down the stairs to the headless hunter captain, and pulled a key on a chain from his pocket. On it was the symbol Danarius marked all his property with. A similar one had been branded on the base of his neck. His former master had acquired property here, which he would never do just to accommodate some hunters. “It’s as I thought. My former master accompanied them to the city. I know you have questions, but I must confront him before he flees.” He stood looked up at her again, “I will need your help.”  
“Fighting more slavers?” she smiled that little half-smile again, “I think we can help you.”  
Aveline sighed, “I’d help you burn out a rat’s nest of slavers but I’m due for my patrol on the Docks.”  
Varric looked up at her sharply, “These were your off-duty hours?”  
Aveline glanced down at him, “Sure. I usually spend my off-duty hours killing bandits or routing gangs with Hawke.”  
Varric slowly shook his head “The trend of you scaring the piss out of me continues.” Bethany giggled as Aveline rolled her eyes and left.  
Hawke laughed then turned to them, “Coming?” Both nodded.  
Fenris felt good about their odds of success, and about having others who wouldn’t turn on him for coin at his side. Especially good about a particular one...He stopped his thoughts there. She was a human and gorgeous. She wasn’t likely to look at him. Not that someone in his precarious position should be thinking about romance. He cleared his mind. He needed to focus on the fight ahead. It would be a challenge.


	2. Battle at the Mansion

As the shade lunged toward him, Fenris swung his greatsword. Unable to stop its momentum, the spirit was sliced in half. It faded like an apparition. Pivoting, his eyes searched the room for his next target. There were none to be found. Varric bent to gather his crossbow bolts and the Hawke sisters’ throwing knives from the floor, and Bethany plucked some from the walls. The dwarf had proven to be an excellent marksman. Bethany he wasn’t sure of yet. She had hung back and tossed a few throwing knives with much less skill than her sister. When an enemy closed on her, she did have a few surprising moves with that stick of hers. Yet he felt she was holding back. He suspected the same of her older sister.   
Keaira Hawke knelt on the floor, disabling a trap in front of the door into what was likely a large reception hall. Her black hair was tied into a bun high on her head, a few stray curls about her face and neck. He had watched her fight. Completely opposite her sister’s cautious style, she quickly leapt into the fray, gliding from one foe to the next with a speed and deadly grace he found himself admiring. Each slash of her blades had been deadly, each time an opponent attacked; she simply slid out of the way. It had looked so effortless, and yet he doubted he had ever fought with or against anyone who could duplicate it. She stood as the trap clicked into harmless submission, and he saw she was not even winded. He had learned the sisters had come to Kirkwall, narrowly escaping the Blight. Perhaps after darkspawn, these shadowy demons were not so challenging. He was relieved to have such companions to fight Danarius, but curious as to what else they were capable of.  
Varric had refilled his quiver, and both Hawke sisters recovered most of their throwing knives. Keaira looked at her sister, who nodded at her. Prior to entering the mansion, they had explained that until they were certain an area was cleared of enemies, they avoided speaking aloud. Before entering any new room, they nodded to silently confirm they were ready to fight. Varric nodded as Hawke met his eyes. As those brilliant blue eyes locked with his, he nodded as well and stepped up to her side in front of the double doors. Varric moved behind him and Bethany aligned herself with her sister. Keaira placed her hand on the doorknob and watched him. Fenris did the same on his side and looked for her cue. She nodded sharply and they both threw the doors open.   
Two dozen skeletons with swords and axes stood in a grand hall, a dozen more with bows crowded each of the double staircases. Keaira dashed in, nearly a blur. He saw four of the decrepit swordsmen fall to throwing knives before she reached melee range and drew her twin sais. The archers started to sprout bolts and throwing knives. He was following Keaira’s lead, charging in with his blade at the ready.  
In the moments it took him to join the fight, Hawke had already dropped three more. Together they fought back to back until there was only one axe-bearing corpse remaining. The stairs had become a carpet of bones.  
Blue light shimmered on the landing, and he was disturbed to see a frost horror rise there. He cried out as a sharp pain in his left arm brought his attention sharply to the corpse before him, its face frozen in a deathly grin. Its axe dripped with his blood. Its eye socket was suddenly bisected by a knife and it clattered to the floor. Hands on his shoulder quickly spun him around. He was surprised to feel no extra pain from the contact. Hawke looked at his forearm and placed one hand just above his elbow, before the start of his wound and the other alongside his wrist. His tattoos didn’t burn at her touch. His skin tingled slightly, but not painfully. Her soft hands on his arm actually took his mind away from the burning ache of his forearm. She grimaced.  
“A poultice will take too long.” She turned to face the double doors where Varric and her sister still stood. “Bethany!”  
He looked at Hawke’s sister. She had frozen at her sister’s call. “Are you sure?” she asked.  
“Do it!” yelled Hawke.  
Bethany hesitated a moment, then raised her hands as they began to glow with a pale pink light. Magic. She was a mage. He winced despite himself.  
His wound stopped hurting. He looked at it to see the same rosy light covering his wound as it sealed shut.  
“Go right!” screamed Bethany.  
Hawke half-dragged, half-threw him to the right. Fenris looked back to see the ice spike falling toward her- and an arrow pin her cloak to the ground and throw her to her knees. He forgot how to breathe.  
She tore the collar, and barrel rolled out from impending disaster with astounding speed. The ice crashed into the stone. Gracefully unfolding herself amidst flying chunks of ice, she went from a roll to standing beside him in a moment. Scowling as her hair flew free, she was as terrifying as she was beautiful. She unsheathed her sais.  
Two steps into a run; she jumped onto the stair railing. Pivoting, she started to run up the banister as easily as if it were flat ground. A loud bang sounded behind him, and she yelled, “Fenris! The floor.”  
In the ten feet between him and the wall of the landing, flames peeked through a spiderweb of cracks in the floor. A rage demon rose up, and moved forward to meet him. It thrust a flaming arm at him. As he dodged it, he saw Hawke reach the landing and leap off the railing toward the frost horror.  
Her blades connected with the horror’s neck, and she contorted in the air to swing nearly a full circle around it. Its body crumpled as its head flew off, and she soared back over the railing towards him and the demon, trailing frost from her weapons. She twisted midair to face him and the demon, her mane of ebony hair flowing behind her. She landed on her feet, directly behind the rage demon. Her sais held overhead, she swept them down with the force of her fall, ending in a crouch with her blades smashing against the stone floor.  
The rage demon reeled, and then fell back into the pit it had come from. Hawke stood triumphantly, tossing her wild hair back and smiling ruefully at her ruined blades. One was warped and cracked beyond use, and the other had smashed at the hilt. The combination of frost and fire had been as brutal for her daggers as it was for the demon.  
He stared at her. Her form-fitting dark leather armor was practical. Yet still he found himself entranced by the shape of her, which had been concealed by her cloak until now. She was not thin like her sister. She had curves like an hourglass, without being either too thin around the waist, or too heavy around the chest and hips.  
Varric’s cry of, “Nice one Hawke! I won’t even need to exaggerate that! Much.” startled him from his thoughts, bringing him back to why he was here.  
“Danarius!” he looked up and yelled, “Your pets cannot keep us from you!” He made his way up the boneyard of steps, seeing the door to what must be a master bedroom cracked open. The frost horror’s head sat nearby on its side, leaking. It reminded him that much more than good looks made it great she was on his side. Footsteps on the stairs told him she had his back. He kicked the door open, only to see a half-eaten meal and items thrown around. Danarius had gotten word of the hunters’ failure and hurriedly escaped.  
“Gone.” He said heavily, “I had hoped...” he shook his head, “No it doesn’t matter any longer.” Fenris turned to face them. Hawke was only a few feet behind him, Varric and... the mage were taking cover on the staircases. “I assume Danarius left valuables behind. Take them if you wish.” He started down the stairs, using the one opposite the mage, avoiding looking that way. The last thing he needed was more magic. He gritted his teeth.  
“I need some air.”


	3. A Threat and a Smile

A cool breeze fluttered the tips of his white hair as Fenris stood just outside the mansion’s entrance, arms crossed and back to the wall. He was considering simply walking away. Danarius knew he was in Kirkwall. Perhaps these mercenaries could continue to keep him at bay- but was it worth the company of yet another mage? Mages, in his experience, valued power far over the life or well-being of others. And yet, spoke another side of his mind, she had not hesitated to ally herself against a powerful magister. It also occurred to him that should he take his leave of Kirkwall now, he could keep what coin he had. Paying them for the pack of Tevinter slave hunters as well as the shades, skeletons and demons was probably worth more than he had. All he needed was to rack up a debt. He sighed, and didn’t move.  
No, he didn’t feel right about leaving. They had been offered a great deal of gold for his capture, and refused to consider it. They had treated him with honour, and he felt wrong about doing anything less. Debt or no, even not knowing where his next meal would come from, walking out would simply not sit right with him.  
The door swung open, Hawke stepped out and quickly spotted him there. She walked toward him; Varric and the mage close behind. He looked away, unable to quell the outrage of fate leading him towards yet more magic.  
“It never ends.” He spoke with resentment, eyes firmly on the ground. “I escaped a land of dark magic, only to have it hunt me at every turn. It is a plague burned into my flesh and my soul.”  
He spared a venomous glance for Bethany, “I saw you casting spells inside. I should have realized sooner what you really were.” He turned his eyes to the raven-haired rogue who had saved him twice now. “You harbour a viper in your midst. It will turn on you and strike when you least expect. That is in its nature.”  
Bethany took a step back, clutching her staff. Pale blue eyes narrowed with a mix of hurt and anger. “You can speak to me directly.” She answered tartly.  
Hawke put her hands on her shapely hips and stared defiantly at him, “My sister is stronger than you think.”  
The younger Hawke’s gaze shifted to her sister and softened with a smile. “You tell him, sister.”  
Fenris worked on calming himself as he kept his bottle green eyes locked with the now icy blue eyes of the woman protectively defending her sister. “I am not blind.” He gestured to his arm, the bit of bruising that remained barely hinted at the serious wound it had been a short time ago. “I know magic has its uses, and there are, undoubtedly, mages with good intentions. But even the best intentioned mage can fall prey to temptation, and then their power is a curse to inflict upon others.”  
Bethany glared at him, not quite managing to appear intimidating, “No one is stopping you from moving on, you know.”  
Realizing this was not how he had wanted this conversation to go, he put aside his anger. “I imagine I appear ungrateful.” He appealed to Keaira Hawke, “If so, I apologize, for nothing could be further from the truth. I still owe you a debt. Here is all the coin I have, as Anso promised. If you feel it is not enough for what you faced tonight and you find that you need assistance- I would gladly render it.”  
He held his coin purse out to the lovely mercenary. She did not remove her hands from her hips and her brow creased further. He was about to offer another apology and perhaps suggest an amount of time for him to pay off what he owed but she spoke first.  
“I would not take your last coin. To leave you with nothing to start your new life here isn’t much better than selling you out to slavers.” Her goodness towards him even after he chastised her sister both surprised and shamed him. One side of her mouth quirked upwards into a half-smile as she glanced slyly at her sister. “Besides, protecting someone from those that would take their freedom is something of a habit for me.”  
He didn’t really appreciate her drawing a comparison between the comfortable ‘prison’ that was the Circle of Magi and the suffering he endured at the hands of Danarius. He said nothing, as he didn’t expect she would understand the vast difference. Nor did he want her to.  
She looked back at him and tilted her head quizzically. “Speaking of which, why is Danarius after you? Your master must want something more than just a runaway slave.”  
Fenris shook his head. “He doesn’t want me at all, just the markings on my skin.” He turned the bare undersides of his arms towards her, and saw her eyes follow the pale blue lines that had been tattooed into his skin. “They are lyrium, burned into my flesh to provide the power that Danarius required of his pet. And now he wishes his precious investment returned, even if he must rip it from my corpse.”  
Hawke winked at him, as a smile played about her lips. “Seems like a waste of a perfectly handsome elf.”  
He moved his fist to his face and laughed, hoping the night would hide the colour rising in his face. He couldn’t help but be intrigued by this turn of events. He knew he shouldn’t allow himself to be. Even if she wasn’t joking, he had nothing to offer and no right to pursue it. Fugitives on the run shouldn’t get involved. Or stay in one place too long.  
Yet, after three years of it, he was tired of running. Ill-advised attractions aside, this was the first time anyone had routed the slave hunters. He would consider staying and his new allies could stand to know a little more about what they were getting into.  
“The truth is I know nothing of the ritual that placed these markings on me. It was Danarius’s choice, one he now regrets.” Fenris smirked a little at that.  
Hawke seemed to hesitate, not wanting to remind him about his torments as a slave. She changed the subject. “I won’t take your gold, but perhaps we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.” She paused and raised an eyebrow at him. He nodded for her to continue, interested to see what she had in mind. “I’m planning an expedition that I might need help with.”  
“Fair enough,” he said. He liked the idea of spending more time around this beautiful and formidable woman. With that thought in mind he continued, “Should you ever have need of me, I will be here.” He gestured to the estate. “If Danarius wishes his mansion back, he is free to return and claim it. Beyond that I am at your disposal.” He bowed. As he straightened, he watched for her reaction.  
She nodded, smiling. “Mercenary work would suit you. We frequently get bandit and gang contracts the guard are too overworked to handle, along with random work that Varric finds us. Nothing illegal though. I already know we work well together so I’m fine with that.”  
Bethany made an inarticulate noise. Hawke turned her head. Sky blue eyes met their match in size and form, only the lighter colour kept them from being the same. Something seemed to pass between them without words. They both turned their faces back to him simultaneously. Bethany tilted her chin in what could have been a subtle challenge. Her sister smiled that little half-smile of her that he was growing to like.  
“No turning my sister in to the templars though, alright? Otherwise you have to heal yourself.” Bethany huffed, Hawke rolled her eyes playfully. “And I’d be upset. I might cry. Or stab you. Or both!” He couldn’t decide if he was annoyed or amused that she even joked when threatening him. She caught his expression.  
“Don’t take it personally. She’s my sister.” He supposed he understood that. If he had family he would do whatever it took to ensure their freedom. She stepped back to her sibling’s side and put an arm around her shoulders. Bethany grinned at her sister, apparently unable to stay mad at her.  
Bethany yawned. “Let’s get home, sister. It’s late and we’re going out tomorrow morning.”  
Hawke dropped her shoulders and turned her face up to the sky and groaned. “Maker save me.”  
Bethany elbowed her in the ribs then turned to the dwarf. “Walk with us?”  
Varric chuckled, “I’d better. If I’m not seen in the company of at least two beautiful women my reputation might suffer!”  
As they turned to walk away Hawke twisted her head to look over her shoulder at Fenris. “Good night.”  
“Good night.” He replied, and once they turned the corner he walked into the mansion that would serve much better than an alley as a place to stay.  
Once inside he was surprised to find piles of ashy dust instead of bones and twisted demonic corpses. He decided not to wonder about that now, and went to the master bedroom. He took off his sword, breastplate and gauntlets. He left them within arms’ reach as he curled up on the first real bed he had slept on in months. His last conscious thought was to wonder what it would feel like to run his fingers through curly black hair.


End file.
